Beware of Carnies

Despite their rat-like appearance, carnies are kings among men--Homer Simpson.

We went to the State Fair last night. I haven't been to a State Fair since, I don't know when. It would be fair (heh) to say that if it weren't for the kids, I would have no interest in going to the fair.

Let me say that for State Fair aficionados, the Monday anniversary of a national tragedy is the best time possible for avoiding the crowds. The fairgrounds were deader than Steve Irwin.

A quick survey of what few people there were in attendance showed that no matter what my dismal financial situation is, I was the wealthiest man there last night. It struck me that it might have been Family Night for the carnies. You couldn't really tell who worked there and who was a paying customer. To paraphrase George Orwell, "The creatures outside looked from carny to man, and from man to carny, and from carny to man again; but already it was impossible to say which was which."

As far as the attractions went, we had a limited time frame. Our plan was to see the marquee acts, hit the Midway, ride a few rides and get out. No livestock and farm animals, please. We've set the bar of entertainment a little higher, thank you.

The acrobats were passably entertaining. But they had a clown involved. It was hard for the boys to pay attention while keeping a sharp eye on the clown at all times. Perhaps telling them about John Wayne Gacy on the way to the Fairgrounds was an unwise choice.

The white tigers were sluggish and lethargic. Their performance was fun if you have ever gotten a charge from watching a house cat on tranquilizers.















Even more disappointing was the shark tanks. They had lemon and nurse sharks. Or as they are known on the bayou--catfish. We did get a good picture, so it wasn't an entire waste of time.

If only the docile sharks were the least of our troubles. I would gladly get in the shark tank to avoid taking children through the Midway. These kids, especially 8, are drawn to carnival games like Paula Abdul is drawn to Percocet and vodka.

I tried to fight the good fight. My ranting about how carny games were rigged, and that getting the giant stuffed dog was a waste of money fell on deaf ears. So, forty damn dollars and an unbelievable amount of crazy carny banter later, we walked away with three stuffed dogs. Not the gigantic ones, but what could generously be called medium sized. The kids need to work on their hitting balloons with darts skills.

With what little money we had left, we (and by that, I mean they) finally got to the carnival rides. The bumper cars were a bust. Unfortunately for 8, he got a bum car. By that, I mean the car didn't work and the bum attendant had to get in with him to make it go properly. Somewhere in the archives is a photo of me at the age of 8 sitting in a faulty bumper car with a carny having to drive. It's the circle of life, Simba.


Next were the bumper boats. Clearly, this would be much different. It was. This time, 11's boat didn't work properly. The only thing wrong with 8's boat was the copious amount of oil smoke and exhaust blowing in his face. They still had fun once the highly skilled technicians came out and beat on the boats with hammers.














Despite the money spent, the boys had a good time and got some stuffed dogs. That was the point wasn't it? At least the having a good time part.